Hopeful Vindication
by Suzanne Saphire
Summary: Bianca is having vivid dreams of a bloody woman asking for help. Who is this woman and how can she be saved?
1. Chapter 1

The sound of a barking dog drilled through Bianca's brain like it was a jagged ice pick. She took her goose feather filled pillow and put it on top of her head.

The dog's barks, muffled now, still were loud enough to keep her from going back to sleep. Bianca pressed the pillow harder onto her ears, but the barks began to elevate her blood pressure.

She flipped to her other side, and placed the pillow back over her head. She knew sleep was pointless know, but the deep, booming bark from the dog was beginning to give her a headache.

"Butch. Shut your goddamn mouth!" The loud, gargled voice came from her next door neighbor's backyard. The dog resumed its barking, until a high pitch yip echoed and finally, silence.

"Should have listened to him the first time, Butch."

Bianca took the pillow off her head and positioned it under her head. Her curls cascaded over the pillow in tangled knots and pieces of twigs and leaves were still in it from the night before.

She ran a weak hand through her hair and pulled a small twig out. She brought it up to her face and examined the thin brown branch with the tiny green leaf still attached to it. She moved over to her side and dropped the dead twig into her dirty trashcan.

The smell from the can hit her face and she put a hand up to her mouth and forcefully swallowed back a sudden hot rush of vomit. Her temples pounded as she squinted her eyes closed and focused on not decorating her bed with the contents of her stomach.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Her temples throbbed relentlessly as the sensation of nausea passed.

She moved a shaky hand over to her nightstand and retrieved a half full bottle of vodka. She brought it up to her mouth and took a quick swig.

Hair of the dog always helps with these types of mornings.

She sealed the bottle and hugged it to her chest. The cool glass felt wondrous against her warm chest. The bottle laid snuggly between her breasts and she breathed in deeply.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Just give it time, B. You'll be feeling better soon.

Bianca lay back down; a pin prick of light came through the flimsy blinds that covered her single bedroom window and shone directly into her left eye. She brought her hands up and put the palms against her eye sockets.

Thump, thump, thump

The headache slowly began to alleviate as she watched the inner eye molecules move around in the darkness behind her lids.

The hangover, the fresh infiltration of vodka into her system and the palm induced darkness tempted sleep to overtake Bianca again. Her breathing slowed, to a steady pace.

Thump, Thump

A gray mist filled Bianca's inner eye. It ebbed and flowed slowly, hypnotically. A serene song played softly in the background. The sound of a woman's voice can be heard. The words or indecipherable, but the tune is relaxing.

Bianca brought her legs back onto the bed, her arms lazily dropped to the side of her body as a small smile spread across her face as she slipped deeply into her dream.

Thump

A hallway spread itself open to Bianca. The wooden floor glistened brightly from the moonlight. A longing look down the hallways reveals a floating door, a harsh red glow escapes underneath it. The glow infiltrates the fog and small beads of blood appear to be suspended in the air.

Bianca glides along the smooth floor as if she were on iceskates. The beads of blood stick to her body in small droplets. A warm dot lands on her lip and she gently pushes her tongue out to taste it.

It tastes bitter.

A muffled yell can now be heard from the other side of the door. The music has changed to a tribal beat.

A harsh thud shakes the door and a crime scene outline cuts itself into the thick white wood. Bianca can vaguely look through the cut and see bodies moving frantically inside. Lines of blood pour out of the wood in thin streams, staining it.

A woman cries loudly in a corner. Bianca can make out her white nightgown. It is splattered with blood. Her leg is laid out in front of her, purple, swollen and broken.

The door is now in front of Bianca and it begins to beat to the rhythm of her scared heart.

She stares at the small woman inside, longing to reach out and quiet her. The inside of her lower stomach aches and a cool breeze from the broken door brushes against her face. She wept openly for this tortured woman.

Bianca reached her left hand to turn the glass doorknob. The soft skin in her palm barely touched the knob when a white hot heat shot through her hand. The knob turned into an angry green snake. It hissed at her, long fangs dripping with venom.

She pulled her open palm up to her mouth to suck out the nasty venom, but her vision began to go hazy. The door drifted away from her and her body leaned against the wall. The woman began screaming for help as an object beat against her.

Bianca tried to stand, but the venom worked through her body, causing paralysis.

The snaked pulled itself out of the door and approached her in a slithering zig zag.

It positioned its body in front of her face and coiled itself neatly. The snake lifted its head and looked down at Bianca's face. It hissed again and striked forward.

Bianca awoke with a sudden gasp. Her heart was racing and she was on the floor next to her bed.

Sweat poured off her body in buckets and she twitched uncontrollably. The next door neighbor's dog was barking again.

She panted, attempting to control her breathing.  
>She looked around the room as her heart slowed to its normal, comfortable pace.<p>

"It was only a dream." She panted. "Only a dream."


	2. Chapter 2

The small house that Bianca and her stepfather share was quiet this Saturday afternoon. The sun was coming in waves through the large picture window in the living room. The trees outside were stripped of their leaves and stood naked. Exposed to the world.

The floorboards creaked as Bianca's damp feet left the bathroom. The heat from the hot shower she had lingered over her skin as the felt the first bites of cold from the dropping temperature outside.

"It should start snowing soon," Bianca thought to herself as she tiptoed to get a large plastic movie theater cup from the top shelf.

The white refrigerator stood in the corner of the kitchen. Magnets from Bianca's childhood scattered across the front of the door. She lingered before opening it, moving a few of the magnetic alphabet to spell out "balls" before proceeding to get a drink.

Not much was left in the fridge. A half empty bottle of soda and a couple of slices of pizza indicated that it was time to go to the store.

Only problem was that she didn't have any money, which meant she needed to get some from her dad.

"Great." She sighed as she slammed the door.

The towel that Bianca had on her head slipped off and dark, wet locks of hair fell onto her shoulders. Small beads of water dripped down her back and chilled her to the bone.

She abandoned her empty cup and went to get dressed.

It was time to find her step dad.

Bianca walked down the block to the corner bar that her stepdad referred to as his second home. He has been going here for as long as she could remember. The afternoon sun glared against the darkened glass and you could make out the outline of people inside.

As Bianca went to open the door to the bar, she recoiled sharply, grabbing her hand in a fearful manner. Bits of her dream came back and she shuddered.

"Are you just going to stand there, or you heading in, Sweetheart?" A deep throated voice asked. Bianca, still holding her hand turned around and saw it was Phil. He was basically an uncle to her.

"You feel alright? You look like you've seen a ghost?" He put a hard hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine. Just a little hangover is all." She said, slowly shaking her head.

"Are you now? What kind of a grownup would I be to not lecture you about underage drinking?"

They both stared at each other, and then cracked up laughing.

Phil opened the door for her and the dim light temporarily blinded Bianca as she walked through. She could make out the familiar sounds of billiards being played in the back part of the bar.

"Bianca!" bellowed Charlie, the bartender. "We haven't seen your gorgeous face in ages! Come up here!"

Bianca always felt strange hanging around this bar, especially after she started to get her curves and breasts. She was well aware that men looked at her differently. It also didn't help that she dressed provocatively. But, she always felt that if you have the figure, then proudly show it off.

But, today she was just in plain jeans with a red sweater. Her hair, which she typically wore down, was held back in a pony tail. She was feeling to gross and hungry to take care of her appearance today.

Charlie leaned up against the bar and smiled cheerily at her. His dark blue eyes lingered on her face, hungrily taking her in. She knew that this guy was attracted to her, which grossed her out since he has known her since she was 6.

"Your dad was telling me that you were suspended awhile back for beating up some girl." He automatically worked the bar as he spoke to her. He placed an icy glass of Coke in front of her, with a luscious cherry floating on top of the ice.

She took the cherry and plopped it in her mouth, sucking out the sweet juices from it.

"She had it coming to her, the dumb cunt." Her father snorted from a few stools over. She knew that he didn't approve of her using such language, but he never stopped her.

"Is that so?" Charlie playfully asked, raising a thick eyebrow. He was topping off another mug of beer for her stepdad.

"You got to get bitches in check." She said as she pulled the cherry from the stem, slowly chewing the small red fruit.

She went over to her father who was pretty buzzed. He looked over at her with sad, haunted eyes. She noticed that the only time he looked this depressed was when he has been drinking, which as been a lot lately.

"We need groceries."

He reached in his wallet and gave her a $20.00.

"Going out tonight?" He asked as he placed the wallet in his back pocket.

She shrugged. "Too early to tell."

"Don't get home to late then."

She turned to leave the bar, "Hey B," her father's soft voice called out to her.

She spun around to face him; he looked so small and weak on that stool. Has he been losing weight? It's been so long since she has had a chance to really look at her stepdad.

"I love you, you know." He said and smiled, showing his crooked teeth.

"Okay." Bianca said in an uncertain way. Yeah, he must really be shitfaced.


	3. Chapter 3

The glow from the television set cast a blue wash of light across the area rug that Bianca was currently splayed across.

She lay on her stomach, constantly checking her Twitter feed to see if anything was going on tonight. It seemed that everybody was out and about this Saturday night while she was spending unwarranted alone time.

The laugh track from the sitcom Bianca was vaguely watching began to aggravate her, so she switched to another channel. It looked like a horror movie of some sorts. Half dressed girls were running around a dark forest, screaming. Bianca started laughing as one of the girls was decapitated from an unsuspected axe.

"Dumb bitch."

Blood sprayed everywhere and the girls head rolled around in the grass.

A flash inside Bianca's mind went off and she remembered another part of the dream she had earlier. She saw the bloody woman in the white nightgown, looking at her. Pleading at her.

"Help me." She whispered. "Help me please, Bianca."

Bianca's jaw slowly dropped open, her brown eyes unfocused. She did not know who this woman was, but she felt that she had known her at some point in her life.

Who was she? Funny how she spoke about this woman in the past tense, already assuming she is dead.

Her iPhone chirped at her, indicating that a new tweet had been posted.

She shook her head for the second time today, trying to release the image from her mind.

It's probably nothing to concern her. She just happened to have a very vivid dream that refuses to escape her mind. She'll be back to normal in no time.

Bianca grabbed her phone from and browsed through the new tweets. She saw that Fitz sent one. It said, "I really fucking need a drink to clear my mind."

She contemplated replying back to him, but remembered that they didn't exactly end last night on the best terms.

But, she could go for a drink herself.

"Ah, fuck it." She switched to direct message mode and wrote, "Provide the booze and I'll provide the place."

A couple hours later Bianca, Fitz and Owen are comfortably hanging out on a couple of bean bag chairs in the garage behind her house. Her father kept a broken down, faded blue VW Beetle there. The doors were removed from their hinges and laid against the wall. He had been tinkering around with this car for years, but ever could get anywhere on this particular project. Actually, her dad never finished any project he set out to do.

A small, ancient CD player played music from the cluttered workshop desk while Bianca downed a 2nd shot of whiskey. Owen and Fitz shared a joint as the whiskey burned down her throat, warming her stomach.

The light in the garage is dim, and they can barely make out each of their faces, but the glow from the tip of the joint danced happily between the 3 of them. The smoke drifted up towards the ceiling as they stupidly laughed.

Bianca felt her eyes get heavy from the alcohol and pot and felt extremely happy to be hanging out with her 2 favorite guys again. Fitz was sitting quietly, slowly taking in the joint. He was nodding his head to the music . The smoke escaped his mouth is a large cloud and he glanced over at her. She still wasn't certain about their position at the moment after last night, but she didn't feel like bringing anything up in front of Owen. Luckily he wasn't at the party last night.

Fuck, didn't she complain to some people about Fitz last night. The pot started to play tricks on her mind and she twitched. Irrational fear nipped at the edges of her brain and she started to feel extremely self conscious.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Owen said. He stood up from the bean bag chair; having to really pull himself forward with an exposed support beam. "Calm down, B."

"I'm ok. "she mumbled to him as he sat down next to her. The weight of his body puffed the chair up and she fell into his chest.

She kept telling herself to chill out. Fitz isn't the type to get too mad with her. Hell, he knows that she has a temper. But, why was he so quiet. It would have been him to crack a joke about her not being to handle her drugs and booze right about now.

Bianca kept close to Owen's chest as he rubbed her back. She could feel slight twinges of pain back there and realized that must have bruised the night before while Fitz was fucking her.

She started having a hard time breathing and desperately wanted to go out and get some air.

Owen's heavy arm kept rubbing her back, he was talking to her, but he sounded miles away. She kept staring over at Fitz, wanting him to look at her. Let her know that they are still cool.

Eventually, the pressure became too intense and she hurridly pushed Owen aside and ran out the door.

"What the hell is her problem." Owen asked Fitz in his deep voice.

"Dunno." Fitz replied, sounding distant.

The air outside the stifling garage filled Bianca's lungs as she breathed in deeply. She staggered briefly as a wave of vertigo hit her. She reached out behind her and felt the wall. She pressed her back against it and lowered herself to the ground.

She crossed her legs and felt a few tears fall from her eyes.

Why she was suddenly bothered about last night? It wasn't unusual for guys to treat her differently afterwards. She preferred it that way. No commitment.

But, maybe Fitz was different. The first time they hooked up was last summer. She was his first and he was pretty terrible at it. Actually, he was barely able to get it up, and when he did succeed in getting in her, he came.

Last night though. Her mind lingered a bit on the memories of last night. Bits and pieces started coming back to her.

Last night was different. It was as if he were a different person. A person she wanted to see again.

The garage door squeaked open and heavy boots could be heard on the pavement.

"Bianca?" Owen stood above her. She can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm alright. Just forget about it."

Owen sat down in front of her; he was partially in the grass. He looked at her with his blue eyes, which were extremely bloodshot at the moment.

He took on her hands into his large ones and smiled at her. She never noticed how comforting his smile could be.

"What's going on tonight? You've been acting bizarre."

"Just having an off night I suppose." She said as she looked up at the sky. The moon was partially covered by a cloud and a shoot star streaked across the sky.

"You sure?" He leaned forward, really looking into her eyes. They burned deep inside her.

She nodded.

Alright then. He stood and dusted the back of his pants. He extended his hand out to her and she grabbed it.

They walked up to the garage door and both looked through the small window in the door.

They both saw Fitz inside, pacing the room, nervously. He had a fresh cigarette in his mouth and it was moving up and down, as if he were talking to himself.

"Here I am, worried about you, when it's pretty obvious something is up with him." Owen said as he cocked a thumb towards Fitz.

Bianca felt a nervous tension wrap around her heart.

This was the guy she was with last night. The new Fitz.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the night proved to be uneventful.

It ended soon after Bianca and Owen entered the garage. Fitz was sweating, and slightly shaking. He said he had to get going and just darted out.

Owen offered to hang out until Bianca's father got home, but she told him not to worry about it.

Her dad did get home sometime after 2am, when Bianca was already in bed. She could hear him bang the front door shut. He rummaged through the kitchen for a while and eventually quieted down.

Bianca lay quietly in her bed, the 2 thick blankets on her bed kept her body warm as the wind howled outside.

Why it is that all the men in her life were fucked in the head?

Could it be that she didn't have a mother figure in her life to guide her? She barely remembered her own mother. She died when she was just a toddler.

Even though the blankets were wrapped tightly around her, she still shivered with a sudden longing to be held by her mom.

She dreamed of being in a better place, a place where she lived in a comfortable home, in a comfortable neighborhood and a normal home life.

Sunday mainly was her attempting to clean up around the house while her stepdad was passed out at the kitchen table. He left a half eaten sandwich on a paper towel and it looked like he fell asleep while he was still chewing it since bits of breadcrumbs were scattered underneath his open mouth.

He breathed in erratically, and she knew that he was going to be feeling like shit when he woke up.

Bianca went around the house, picking up clothes and dirty dishes. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Sunday. She opened the windows throughout the house to air it out. She also wanted to enjoy the last of the nice weather before it started to snow.

She went into her dad's room and picked all of his clothes from the corner of the room. She didn't like coming into this room, it always gave her the creeps.

As she was leaving the room, she tripped on one her dad's work boots and dropped the basket of clothes, causing some of them to skid across the floor.

"Great. Just fucking great." She complained as a few strands of hair fell out of her makeshift bun. She stood there and angrily put her hands on her hips. She blew the hair away from her eyes and kicked the shoe against the wall.

She got on her knees and impatiently tossed shirts, underwear and socks into the large plastic basket.

She quickly scanned the floor to make sure that she didn't miss anything and saw the edge of a sock had made its way past the dusty blue bed skirt on her dad's bed.

She scooted over to it; her skin skidded across the floor. She bent forward and lifted the bed skirt, to make sure there were not more clothes under there

She moved her hand around in the darkness under the bed and came across a wooden object that was stashed away against the wall.

What was that? She thought to herself. She got down onto her stomach and peered underneath the bed. It was too dark for her, so took the phone from her shorts' pocket and she used it to illuminate underneath the bed.

Mountains of dust had accumulated under this bed from many years of neglected cleaning. She spotted a few more socks and pulled them out, dragging trails of dust bunnies with them.

She spotted the wooden box; it reflected the light from her cell phone back at her and beckoned her to look inside it.

She sat up. Her arms were lightly coated with sweat and she saw that small hairs and dust were sticking to it.

What is in the box? She wondered.

Should she look inside it?

Why was it hidden under the bed?

As she kept asking herself these questions, she went back down onto her stomach and crawled underneath the bed. It was a tight fit, and her breast pressed painfully against her chest, but she managed to get a firm hold on the box.

She tugged it forward, but it stuck. Her heart sank as she realized that she wasn't going to be able to look inside this forbidden box. But, she gave it another quick pull and it freed itself from its spot.

She silently chuckled with victory and squirmed her way backwards into the light.


	5. Chapter 5

The red, wooden box sat on top of Bianca's bed. She sloppily threw the blankets across her bed sheets just so the box didn't dirty her bed too badly. It looked like it had been sitting untouched for a really long time.

The washing machine was sloshing around in the small laundry room across the hall from her bedroom while she sat there, staring at this box.

She felt sudden apprehension about opening it.

She vaguely recalled the story about Pandora's Box. She doubted monsters and serpents were going to come out and attack her, but there might be something in here that she didn't need to see.

You can't unsee things after all.

But, her curiosity began to eat away at her apprehension. She ran her fingers over the top of the box, dancing against the smooth wood. Her fingers left playful traces where they streaked away the thick dust.

She got to her feet and silently went to the kitchen to check on her stepdad. The last thing she needs is for him to wake up and find her going through his things.

Still passed out. This was one of the few times she was glad that he drank heavily.

She jogged back to her room, her socks causing her to slip a little as she turned quickly to get into her bedroom. She softly closed the door and cursed about not having a lock on the door.

Bianca now stood next to her bed, staring down at this box. She put both her hands on the sides of it and took a deep breath.

She lifted the lid.

It was filled with photographs. Bianca felt an anticlimactic drop in her, and slouched. She got worked up over a box full of pictures?

She rummaged through the photographs, expecting to find something tucked away underneath the box, but nothing was to be found.

Her hands picked up random photographs and she smiled at the familiar faces. She saw a few pictures of her as a toddler.

As she went through the photographs, she realized that her father never decorated their home with pictures. He had some paintings, but nothing personal.

Sure, she had seen pictures of herself as a baby and growing up, but her mother was always partially cut out of the image by the camera.

Her stepdad always told Bianca that she was just shy and hated to be photographed.

She has asked him if he had any pictures with his mom's, and he was only able to show one of her when she was about 16. She looked up at her desk and stared at the old photograph.

Things didn't seem right here.

Why would he only provide her a picture of her mother when she was a teenager when he had a box full of photographs underneath the bed?

Now the box became the most important thing to her.

She picked up a stack of pictures and started going through them, trying to desperately locate any pictures of her mother.

All the ones she kept coming across were the usual ones with her mom's arms being the only visible part of her being shown. She found one, but it was only a picture of the back of her head.

Bianca grew frustrated. Why couldn't she find a picture with her fucking face on it?

Towards the end of the large stack, she found it.

It was a photograph of her mother and her stepdad's wedding day.

Bianca was just a little girl, dressed in white. She held a small basket of white flower petals, smiling goofily at the camera.

She dropped the photograph and put a shaky hand to her mouth.

Her mother was the bloody woman in her dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Bianca felt a wave of vertigo hit her as she realized that she was hyperventilating. Was her dream a flashback? Could it be a lost memory? That would explain how vivid everything felt.

Was her mother murdered?

The questions raced through her mind as the sun began to set. The reflection of the rays hit her neighbor's window and washed over he bedspread. It illuminated the picture of her mother. The sole picture that revealed a woman in her 20s, smiling brightly at the camera.

Bianca felt tears well up in her eyes as she outlined her mother's face with a slim finger.

"I look just like you." She whispered to the picture.

She heard her stepfather coughing down the hall and snapped back to reality. She collected the scattered pictures and tossed them into the trunk and snapped it shut. She picked it up and began to walk towards her bedroom door and realized that that would be a stupid move. She ran to her closet and slid the trunk under a pile of dirty clothes that she intended to wash today. Looks like that will have to wait until tomorrow when she got home from school.

Dinner with her stepfather was quiet, which isn't anything unusual. They ordered Chinese takeout and had the TV playing in the background. Her father, glazed eyes and extremely hung over, gnawed on an egg roll.

Bianca wasn't very hungry and mainly pushed her food around her plate. After a while they tired of the "family meal" and went to their respective rooms.

Bianca sat down against the door to her closet. She nervously ran her fingers through her long hair, unsure of what the next move should be.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember her dream, or was it a memory now? She can only see her mother. Was she alone in the room?

Her mind's eye couldn't see any further and Bianca slammed her wrist down on her upper thigh, frustrated.

She stood up, picked up her jacket from one of her bedposts and decided that she needed to clear her mind.


End file.
